


Dancers

by Theoroark



Series: Dark Room [20]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:35:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22160407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theoroark/pseuds/Theoroark
Summary: Satya Vaswani asks the Sombra Collective to help her escape Vishkar and get to the new Overwatch. Widowmaker tags along.
Relationships: Sombra | Olivia Colomar/Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix, Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix & Satya "Symmetra" Vaswani
Series: Dark Room [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1340431
Comments: 8
Kudos: 42





	Dancers

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to Blooming for beta-ing <3

Widow liked working at Talon. She imagined most people would hate that about her. She remembered vividly the look of horror on Ana Amari’s face, the split second before Widow shot her. She had seen echoes of it in the sidelong looks Gabriel had cast, the first few months he was with them in earnest. These looks told her quite clearly that the most comfortable assumption of her character was that she was a helpless ballerina, a scared trophy wife, desperate to be rescued.

Widow did not want to be rescued from Talon. Widow liked learning to shoot and fight, liked the intrigue and watching one’s actions shake the world. She liked Sombra. Gabriel had let go of his more comfortable view of her, once he had to. But she doubted other people would.

Widow liked working for Talon. But she also liked Baptiste, because he was Sombra’s friend, and he was witty and he didn’t bullshit. When Widow had asked him why he deserted Talon the way he did, he told her, “The only way anyone leaves Talon is in a body bag.” Widow liked Talon, but she liked it because of the freedoms it had given her. She did not like the idea that that could be taken away.

Widow liked working for Talon because she liked working with Sombra. Sombra was brilliant and beautiful. She was witty and while she might bullshit, she bullshit Widow like a dance. There was a rhythm and pattern, an overarching melody, in how she lied: she made bluffs transparent when it wouldn’t hurt Widow to know they were lies, and she made them opaque when Widow would have preferred to remain ignorant. Widow trusted Sombra to lie to her right.

With Satya Vaswani, Sombra did not even try to lie to Widow. Sombra got the call in the Chateau. She tried to be quiet about it– shuffled to the edge of the bed and then to the corner of the bedroom and whispered. But Widow’s senses were dialed up by her conditioning. Widow blinked awake and sat up. Sombra was crouched in the corner surrounded by purple-tinted files, emblazoned with the Vishkar logo. 

“If you had given me more warning,” Sombra muttered. She ran her fingers along her neural implants and flared her nostrils as she listened to whoever was on the other end. She didn’t seem to have noticed Widow yet and almost on instinct, Widow kept still, so she wouldn’t alert her. 

“I can get you out,” Sombra said. “It’ll be hard, but I can. If you’re a friend, that is.” A smile crept across Sombra’s face. Widow couldn’t help but match it. “I help my friends, because I know they’ll help me too.” 

“Who was that?” Widow asked when Sombra hung up, looking tired but triumphant. Sombra was silent as she walked across the room and crawled back into bed. She studied Widow for a moment before she spoke. Widow’s smile faded, any vicarious satisfaction replaced with anxiety.

“One of Sanjay’s top operatives is trying to defect to Overwatch,” Sombra said. “Her name is

Satya Vaswani. I’m hoping to get a favor from Overwatch for this. But I’ll need to be moving her personally, because Utopaea is some next-level Orwellian shit.” Sombra took Widow’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “Do you want to come with me?”

Widow trusted Sombra and so she did her damnedest to try to match Sombra’s steps as Sombra led. This should not have been something Sombra told her. Widow could ruin Sombra’s plans and if she didn’t, she would be wracked with guilt the next time she and Akande met up for their morning workout. Sombra knew Widow liked Talon.

But Sombra was like her. Sombra liked her freedom. Sombra trusted Widow to meet Baptiste, and she had trusted Widow would like him.

Widow had no idea who Satya Vaswani was. But for some reason, Widow did not like the idea of her leaving Vishkar in a body bag. So she told Sombra, “Yes. I’ll come with you.”

-

Sombra worked with who she needed to. But Widow knew she hated Vishkar, the same way that she hated Portero. Widow half thought it was not so much the potential favor that motivated Sombra, but the prospect of getting revenge on Korpal for every fake smile she had had to give him. Sombra was not smiling now, as she piloted the small craft into Utopaea. The city’s skyline was dazzling– ornate domes and triangular skyscrapers flowed together in a way only possible for a city spun up entirely by design, from a singular vision instead of Paris’s amalgamation of egos. 

But the part they flew over first, the slums, had no vision expended on them. While the buildings downtown were all shimmering, intricate crafts, here hard light was rendered simply as a sheet. As the sun rose behind them, they caught glimpses of what the horizontal wall was supposed to hide: corrugated metal roofs and peeling paint, stagnant water and livestock. If it weren’t for the people moving through its streets, Widow could swear the light had preserved the district, keeping it from decades of advances. From the way Sombra’s jaw clenched, Widow could tell she saw it too.

“Are you okay?” Widow asked.

“Yeah,” Sombra said. “Security’s real light this route, and we’re cloaked anyway.” Widow waited, her stare enough of a probe at this point. Sombra sighed. “I mean– yeah, it reminds me of some shit. But we’re in the middle of something, right?”

“Yes,” Widow said. “We’re doing something.”

They landed in a shopping district, in a quiet loading dock. Vaswani was waiting for them in the building. It was a nice little cafe, a chalkboard with daily specials and a few nervous looking wait staff. Vaswani sat there with a cup of tea and a book. Like she was meeting Sombra and Widow for brunch. She set down her book and scanned the two of them as they approached.

“You’re the representatives from the Sombra collective?” Vaswani asked. Widow resisted the urge to look over at Sombra. It was easy to forget that most of the world believed her girlfriend’s work could only be achieved by a group. And while that made Sombra’s deception far easier, it did make Widow’s ability to communicate with her a bit more difficult.

“Ghost,” Sombra said. “And Widow.” 

Vaswani gave a derisive snort at their nicknames, but introduced herself as, “Satya.” She stood and tucked the book under her arm and grabbed the duffel at her feet. “Shall we get going, then?”

She started towards the back entrance Widow and Sombra had come in through, but Sombra moved to block her way. “You’re in such a rush,” Sombra said serenely. “Why? My friend and I haven’t even tried the tea here yet.”

Satya’s eyes narrowed. “I do not want to risk innocent lives,” she whispered.

“Well,” Sombra said. “I suppose we could get going. As long as I have confirmation that we have somewhere to go.”

Satya was quiet for a moment. Then she set the duffel down, and pulled a folded piece of paper out of it. She handed it to Sombra, who read for a moment, then smiled widely. 

“Ziegler and Amari? I can see why you want to leave so bad now.” Satya still said nothing, but her jaw tightened. Sombra spun on her heel. “Come on. Let’s go.”

The ship suddenly felt much smaller with three people in it, and Widow was conscious of how she and Satya needed to duck to get in. Widow settled in the co-pilot’s seat next to Sombra, and Satya sat on the minute bunk in the back. 

“Are we going to the Gibraltar watchpoint?” Satya asked.

“Not for a minute.” Sombra flipped a few switches, and the craft began to rise. “I want to lose whatever tail we’re getting from this place. So we’re going to take the long way around.”

The prospect of going somewhere unknown with criminals she just met seemed to, quite understandably, make Satya nervous. But she said nothing. Just peered out the port window as they flew out of the city, back over the slums.

-

They raced the sun as they flew and so Widow was vaguely disoriented when they finally landed for a rest. Sombra stopped just outside of a small Turkmenistani town on the Caspian coast. As Sombra fiddled with files and maps, she suddenly stopped, looked up, and asked, “What the hell is she doing?”

Widow followed her gaze. Satya had left the ship without them noticing and was wading into the sea. The water was up to her calves and her shoes were in her hands. Widow sighed and stood.

“I’ll go ask.”

Satya didn’t acknowledge her as she approaches, even though Widow knew the sand didn’t muffle her footfall that much. Widow stood at the bank with her arms folded. The water smelled foul and Satya might be willing to get her legs dirty with no shower in sight, but she certainly wasn’t.

“Are we leaving soon?” Satya asked, after a long stretch of silence. Widow shook her head, then registered that Satya’s back was to her.

“No,” she said. “Are you okay?”

The question fell out without Widow thinking it through, and she winced as Satya looked back over her shoulder at her. It carried the wrong weight with it– friends and family asked one another if they were okay. Akande would ask her if she was okay, if she had a rough mission. And she would answer because she trusted he cared about her answer. Satya knew Widow was not a friend. Satya knew Widow only cared about her being okay enough to fulfill the job at hand. But Widow’s phrasing brought into sharp relief how not okay Satya could be, without Widow caring.

“I’m fine,” Satya said finally. “The sea was beautiful, and I’d been breathing stale air for hours. I just needed a moment.”

Widow nodded and sat down at the shore. She could understand that. She felt that way too, after missions when her adrenalines was singing and she just wanted to run or dance or scream but instead she was on some drop ship with people who thought she might be any kind of interested in conversation. 

“I can ask Sombra if we can make more stops,” Widow said. Satya blinked, then smiled.

“I appreciate that,” she said. “But I will be alright. You certainly don’t need to involve your bosses.” 

Widow was spared from any more potential fumbles by the beep of her holovid.  _ You can’t stay out there too long _ , read the message.  _ I don’t want you getting picked up by satellite imaging. _

“Time to go in?” Satya asked. Widow looked up.

“We can stay out a bit longer.”

“It’s okay.” Satya walked past her, dripping seawater on the dark sand. “Thank you.”

Widow nodded. She sat on the beach and watched the small waves eat up Satya’s footprints before she returned to the craft.

-

Sombra did not want to leave a beeline path, and so the next day they flew straight north. Sombra told them Russia’s isolationist border policy would deter Vishkar from following them. Widow nodded and watched leerily as they flew over mechs patrolling with massive guns.

They landed in a snowy forest, where Satya would not want to leave the craft. The three of them sat together, acting out the ritual of a meal, to eat their rations as the snow drifted around the ship.

“I been looking at Vishkar communications,” Sombra told them. “And they’re all in a tizzy right now. I think we really lost them.”

Satya smiled politely. “Thank you.”

“‘Course.” Sombra dipped a spoon into her MRE, swirling it as though that would make the substance more palatable. “I haven’t seen them talking about hostages or collateral or anything, either. So I’m guessing either you’re good on that, or there’s no one else you need extracted.”

“No,” Satya said. “My family’s in Hyderabad.” She turned her attention to her food, but Sombra set her spoon down and frowned.

“If you have a family still around, they still should be being used as collateral. I didn’t see anyone so much as mention any family members, in the shit I’ve intercepted.”

“I don’t know if they know about them,” Satya said. “I was young when I enrolled, and it was not a particularly standardized process. They might not have any names to go off of.”

Satya began eating again, seemingly untroubled, but Widow could tell that Sombra was. She bit her lip and did not meet Widow’s eyes, even as Widow stared right at her.

“I could help get them to you,” Sombra said. “It’d be another favor. But if you give me some info– a name, a street, whatever– I could get that done.”

Satya set down her food. She studied Sombra for a moment, frowning. “Thank you,” she said finally. “But I can reconnect with my family on my own, in my own way. When I am ready.”

Sombra’s eyes darted, then widened. “Oh,” she said. “They gave you to Vishkar? They abandoned you?”

“No!” Satya took deep breaths, recalibrated her expression, but Widow did not miss the look of pure anger that had come first. Sombra apparently hadn’t either, because she looked confused and uncertain in a way Widow hadn’t seen her before.

“My parents encouraged me to sign up for Vishkar so I could create a better life for all of us,” Satya said finally. “With Overwatch, I might be able to give them that. But I haven’t been able to yet. And so I don’t see the need to uproot them, if I’m not giving them a better place to go.”

Widow nodded and Satya smiled at her, but Sombra looked just as confused. “They’re your family,” she said. “Don’t you want to be with them?”

Satya looked at Sombra as if she had asked why Satya was not shoveling the snow outside the craft. “I want them to be happy,” she said. “They’re my family, so I don’t want to make them suffer for my own gain. I go long stretches of time without seeing them, and it’s fine.”

Something like irritation was creeping across Sombra’s face, and Widow was suddenly anxious. “That’s a relief,” Sombra said. “I was worried I’d have to shuttle around your loved ones. If you don’t have any, that’s less work for me.”

Satya stood up, her hands clenched, and the anger she exuded undercut by how she had to hunch against the ship’s low ceiling. “I love my parents and I love my sister,” she spat. “I’m doing what I’m doing because I love them.”

Sombra remained sitting on the floor, her legs folded and her face stony. “If you loved them, you would see them,” she said. 

Satya opened and closed her mouth. Sombra remained perfectly still, but Widow saw the slight tremor in her folded hands. Inside the ship was combustible but outside was lethally frigid. Satya lay down on the bunk facing the wall, and Sombra remained still.

Eventually, Sombra made her way back to the cockpit. Widow followed her and wrapped her arms around her.

Martin Lacroix had died in the Crisis, Anne Lacroix had died in a car crash when Widow was in college. Her grandmother was the only other family member Widow had been close to, and she had died a peaceful, natural death. Widow had mourned all of them but they had been deaths one could understand, deaths most people she met could relate to. Widow had walked out of her family with closure. Sombra had not.

“I was right,” Sombra whispered. Widow hummed. 

“Would you hate me if I said you both were?”

“Kind of.” Widow kissed her temple and Sombra sighed. “I’m not apologizing.”

“That’s okay,” Widow said. Sombra moved as close to Widow as the division between their seats would allow. Widow knew she was cold, and the icy wind trickled in from outside. Widow knew she should push Sombra away, wrap her in a blanket and get her a couple pocket hand warmers, if she wanted to truly take care of her. But right now, more than anything, she wanted to hold Sombra. And Sombra didn’t move. So Widow held her until they both fell asleep.

-

The next morning, Sombra set a course straight for Gibraltar. Widow assumed it was mainly because of the Vishkar confusion of the previous night, and not because Sombra could not stand another night of awkwardness. In any case, Satya had no complaints as they sped across Europe, the snow fading to cities and mountain ranges.

They were a couple hours from the Spanish borders when Widow looked over the back of the co-pilot’s seat, towards the cot Satya was sitting on. Satya was crouched over, a piece of paper clenched in her hands. Widow turned back to Sombra. 

Sombra glanced behind her, then rolled her eyes. “Yeah,” she whispered. “Go for it.”

Widow kissed her, then made her way back to Satya. Satya did not move as Widow sat next to her. The paper was covered in nearly illegible handwriting, but Widow could make out a “Ziegler” at the bottom.

“You’ll see them soon,” Widow said. Satya let out a raspy laugh.

“I know.”

Widow tilted her head. “Are you nervous about seeing them?” Satya shook her head. “Are you nervous?” Satya nodded. “Why?”

“I don’t know.” Satya let the words out all in one breath, and she quickly looked to the cockpit. Sombra had not moved. “This is the right thing to do,” Satya whispered to Widow. “I’m sure of that. It’s the first thing I’ve been sure about in a while.”

“Okay,” Widow said. “So you know everything will be okay.”

“No, I know it’s possible for things to be okay now, whereas it wasn’t before.” Satya let out a shaky laugh. “There’s uncertainty now, I suppose. That makes me nervous.” She looked over at Widow. “I know it doesn’t make sense.”

“It does,” Widow said, and it did. A reliable beginning could take the edge off a painful end. A full embrace of the Widowmaker role may have been a shadow of the life Widow had had before, at least at first. But even then it was something to grasp on to. Satya did not know what, if anything, came after this. It was terrifying, yes, but Widow knew that more than anything, it meant you fully felt the grief of a part of your life ending. 

“They’ll help,” Satya said. Widow nodded. They sat in silence, Satya still holding the letter tight.

“You’ll be okay,” Widow said. She had no certainty to offer. But Satya smiled at her like she helped, and Widow went back to Sombra somehow trusting that she had.

-

They landed far from the Watchpoint. “I don’t want them knowing anything about me,” Sombra said. Satya rolled her eyes but grabbed her bag and disembarked without any complaint, ready to trek across the cliffside to the compound. 

The door had just closed behind Satya when Widow was overcome with a sense of urgency. She turned to Sombra, only to find that Sombra was already watching her.

“It’s your funeral,” Sombra said. Widow kissed her, then hurried after Satya.

Satya turned, surprised, at the sound of the door opening again. “Is there an issue?” she asked, as Widow approached.

“Ah. No.” Satya raised an eyebrow and waited. “I was wondering if you would like to keep in touch.”

“I agreed to owe you a favor,” Satya said. “I trust your group will take the initiative there.”

“Ah– no, not like that.” Both of Satya’s eyebrows shot up now. “Not like that, either. I just. Thought we could be friends.”

Widow expected nothing from Satya, because they were not friends. Satya did not have to worry about her being okay. But after a pause, Satya said, “Okay.” She traced numbers out in hard light, and pushed them to Widow. Widow held them in her hands awkwardly and Satya laughed. 

“You can tell me where you got that jumpsuit,” Satya said. “I’m getting a little tired of wearing a dress.” And then she left, towards the coastline and the Watchpoint. Widow ducked back into the ship, unwilling to make herself any more visible than she already had.

Sombra sighed as Widow sat down next to her. “I don’t know why you keep doing this to me,” she said. “You liked Baptiste. My friends are cool. Yours aren’t. We can never hang out with them.”

“She’s okay,” Widow told her. Sombra didn’t say anything, just shook her head. Widow could see her smiling though, as Widow lay her head on Sombra’s shoulder.

The mission had been, all things considered, slightly miserable. But Widow liked Satya Vaswani, and she liked that she was free.

**Author's Note:**

> To be clear- neither Satya or Sombra are wrong here, they just have very different lives.
> 
> I'm [@tacticalgrandma](https://twitter.com/tacticalgrandma) on twitter if you want to talk to me there!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and any comments/kudos would mean the world <3


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